Am I allowed to love her?
A poem about what my ancestral mothers might feel about me living in Scotland.
Hello friends,
It’s Tuesday, which means I offer you some poetry!
This piece is my meditation on the complex emotions of being an African-American woman living in Scotland. I began to wonder what my ancestors might feel about me contently living amongst the descendants of people who r(e)aped the fruits of trade colonialism. I especially thought deeply about the women, my ancestral mothers.
Am I allowed to love her?
by Shondra Bowie Riley
I am her cousin and her daughter When her voice sings to me I hear the cries of my Mothers Am I allowed to love her? I am Saltire Argent Stars and Stripes Black other unknown I am the proof my Mothers existed Am I allowed to love her? I am bonded backs and Bellies that bore her shameful compliance I am pride of my Mother's womb Am I allowed to love her? I am sugar That built her gilded walls A controversial artefact I am my Mothers's stolen destiny Am I allowed to love her?
Thank you, lovely Nelly Bryce, for inviting me to be a guest poet on Poetry Pals, where I went deeper into my process of writing this poem, my thoughts on form in poetry, and a writing prompt. Plus, I share my favourite poem by Remi Graves: ‘It Is Everywhere’.
This week, I have been bowled over by two pieces:
Relevant Sense is free, but if you like what you’ve found here, you can show appreciation by buying me a cup of tea.
Of all the people ever, here we are. Thank you for sharing time with me.
Thank you so much, Lynelle. I'm glad it resonated.
I felt this in my spirit. Beautifully written.